


that summer breeze (the way it's calling me)

by writing_addict



Series: a whole sky of different stars: fma au collection [6]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: (again bc it's tangled), Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Tangled (2010) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Thieves, BAMF Winry Rockbell, Elemental Magic, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Frying Pans, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Temporary Character Death, and also because father is an asshole, and you'll never guess who maximus is, because it's tangled, ed's a bit naive but it's only bc he's been locked in a tower HIS WHOLE LIFE, edward elric is a disney princess send tweet, in which ed is rapunzel winry is flynn, winry rockbell is so very done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:08:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22099990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_addict/pseuds/writing_addict
Summary: All good stories start with once upon a time. Not this one. This one begins with a lost prince, the sun, a thief, and a birthday. Throw in some glowing lanterns, a tower, tragic backstories on all sides and plenty of budding romance, and now you’ve got a thief in love with a prince-who-doesn’t-know-he’s-a-prince, magic galore—And of course, seventy feet of magic glowing hair.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: a whole sky of different stars: fma au collection [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1302266
Comments: 28
Kudos: 79





	1. sundrop

**Author's Note:**

> okay so ik ive got like seven other unupdated wips but lemme just. lemme just start another one. it’s an edwin tangled au and ed’s rapunzel and winry’s the thief and it’s gonna be stupid and cute and sad y’all ready? y’all ready.

_Once upon a time, there was a god, and a kingdom. No, wait—that’s too cliché._

_This is the story of how I died._

_Now, don’t worry! This is actually a very fun story, a little bit wacky, honestly, and it has a happy ending, I promise. It’s going to be loads of fun—but just, spoiler alert, right? I die at the end, and I’m not even the main character, so there’s no need to worry. But let’s start from the beginning. The_ proper _beginning. With the source of all life._

 _Our story begins with the sun. The god of the sun, to be precise, and the Kingdom of Xerxes. For you see, the royal bloodline of Xerxes was tied to sun magic. Half of those with royal blood, particularly the heirs to the kingdom, could wield it in some capacity, whether it was to heal, to protect, or to destroy. And among that half…among that half were a rare few who had so much magic, so much power that they were considered the children of the god itself. A single touch could heal a wound, their voices could turn barren wastelands into lush forests, and their fury could burn kingdoms to ash. There was only one every five generations, and these rare sun-wielders were called_ Sunspeakers.

_And it just so happened that one of the princes of Xerxes was a Sunspeaker._

_The eldest son of King Van Hohenheim and Queen Trisha Elric was legendary even before his tale truly unfolded. The Queen had fallen sick with a deadly illness, but the unborn child’s magic had healed her from the inside out. Against all odds, she survived—and gave birth to a healthy (if small) baby boy with eyes and hair of gold. This on its own wouldn’t mean much, as the king had the same coloring, but when touched by the sun…_

_The boy_ glowed. _Winding patterns covered his skin, like golden ivy, swirling over the skin of a child who had no idea what power he wielded—the power of a god. Immortality, eternal life, the ultimate weapon…all contained in the tiny body of an infant._

_Lesser rulers would have considered him a weapon of defense. Lesser parents would have used him to rise above their proverbial station. But the king and queen never considered either of those things for a moment, taking one look at their son and deciding that his power changed nothing. He was their son, their beloved child, and they would love him and raise him just the same as they would have otherwise. The kingdom rejoiced at the birth of their Sunspeaker prince, and on his first birthday, the two rulers lit a lantern and launched it into the sky to celebrate._

_But not all who learned of the prince’s power were good at heart. A man long-since banished from Xerxes, who sought eternal life, who sought the power of gods, learned about the birth of a new Sunspeaker and selfishly wanted the boy’s power for himself. One night, while the king and queen were sleeping, he broke into the castle—and upon seeing that the stories were true, stole the child, and vanished without a trace._

_He took the child far, far away, to a tower deep in a forest beyond the kingdom’s borders, and hid him away. At first, he tried to make him use his power immediately, to teach him how to destroy, but after the child burned away his own leg, he ceased. He taught the child a healing spell that would keep him alive and imbue him with strength, tricked him into believing his missing leg came from a wound inflicted by bandits who wanted to use his magic for wicked purposes. To control him, he led him to believe that his power was tied to his hair, never allowing him to cut it for fear that he’d “lose his magic”…and never, ever letting him leave the tower, convincing him of the terrible things that waited outside._

_But the boy grew curious, as all children do. Distracted himself with painting and books and baking, whatever he could get his hands on, but his gaze would always turn to the window that was his only connection to the outside world. He would wander to the sill, stand on it and lean out into the sun, drinking in the light, the feel of the wind on his face—but every time, his eyes would fall to the empty space where his leg should’ve been, and he’d remember what waited outside. The monsters that wanted his magic, the cruel selfish world that would take his hopes and dreams and desires and crush them without thinking twice. And he would step back, staring down at the world that waited below the tower’s one entrance, before closing the shutters and hiding away._

_Except for one night a year._

_Except for his birthday._

_Because the king and queen, even after years went by and the boy’s little brother was born, never forgot the son they’d loved and lost. They mourned him, and kept looking for him, desperate to find their beloved child—and their youngest ended up taking up the search, eager to find the big brother he’d never known. But that part of the story comes much, much later, long after eighteen years of watching lights soar up into the sky when his father was fast asleep._

_Just like they did when he was born._

_Every year, without fail, no matter what their kingdom was facing, no matter what illnesses befell them, the king and queen would launch a lantern into the sky, like a single, shining star calling him home. And every year without fail, the kingdom joined in, from the highest-ranking noble to the lowliest beggar, and lifted a lantern into the air for their little lost prince. Praying that he would see them, and know they were for him. Know that they hadn’t given up on their Sunspeaker prince yet, and never would._

_On that night, every year, the boy would sneak out of his bedroom and over to the windowsill, opening the shutters oh-so quietly so his father wouldn’t hear. He’d sit on the sill, leg dangling over the side, watching and waiting for the floating lights to drift into view. He’d watch until they faded, entranced by shimmering colors and the fact that a world so cruel, so cold, could make something so_ beautiful— _and he couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, the lights were meant for him. But every time he brought it up, and begged to see them, even just from the cliffs above the valley, he was shut down._

_Brutally. Coldly, as his father seemed to do many things, flip-flopping from kind and warm to cruel in seconds. Slowly, he stopped asking, until he gave up on the thought of seeing the floating lights entirely. Until, well…_

_Me._

_Eighteen years went by, the boy unwittingly feeding his father’s power and growing more and more hollow, the kingdom growing more and more hopeless, and in the middle of it all, there was a crown. The boy’s crown. Protected day and night, beautiful and intricate, and most importantly, worth a fortune._

_So perhaps the prequel starts with the sun…but the story really starts with a thief, a crown, and the boy it belonged to._

_As for what happened next, well, you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?_


	2. dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The legendary thief known as Mech finds a tower. The boy in the tower finds a way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> proof that this isn't gonna be a one-shot is here, folks! enjoy some more thief!winry and disney prince!ed. these dorks are fun to write ;p

All things considered, Mech thought today had gone pretty well. She’d just committed the crime of the century by stealing the Crown of the Sun (hello, eternal infamy), successfully ditched and double-crossed two of the most dangerous criminals in the world (no brownie points earned with the criminal underground of Xerxes and Amestris there, she supposed, but it did mean the score was all hers), and escaped the Royal Guard despite a _very_ harrowing chase. Sure, she’d pissed off the Captain of the Royal Guard and had to deal with him shapeshifting into a giant, angry wolf the size of a horse, but one short fall off a cliff and a quick duck into a mysterious cave covered in ivy, and that problem was thankfully solved.

Temporarily solved, at least. Mustang was still after her (since when could the asshole shapeshift, anyway? Especially into one of the best tracking animals in the world? She would be _screwed_ if she stayed in one place too long), and if she got caught it was bye-bye pretty priceless artifact, hello gallows and a public square. Luckily, she’d found that the cave was more like a _tunnel,_ a stretch of dirt and stone going only a few feet before springy grass started popping up and sunlight once again dappled the forest floor.

Prime real estate awaited her, really—a beautiful valley, a waterfall pouring down from high, shining cliffs as a brook wound through the clearing. In the middle of it all, strangely enough, there was a tower. Narrow and tall (at _least_ seventy feet, if not over a hundred, like it had been separated from a palace and dropped down here), made of shimmering stones and covered in crawling moss and ivy. Pretty. Possibly full of treasures. And, most importantly, no stairs, ladders, or anything a giant wolf-slash-human-guard would be able to climb up.

It only took half an hour to climb, with a little boost from her magic and using the arrows of her quiver to nudge some stones out enough to use as footholds, grasping iron-infused arrow shafts and hauling herself up step by step. The one window she’d seen near the top was, thankfully, unlocked, and she’d slipped inside, pausing for a moment on the sill to check her satchel. The crown was still in there, thankfully, shining gold and jet-black stones and diamonds—a pretty, delicate circlet meant only for the Crown Prince of Xerxes. One the current heir would never have received, and never asked for, because it belonged to his brother.

 _The Lost Prince._ Sometimes, she wondered what had happened to him, to that little baby with those bright golden eyes she saw in those tapestries, those mosaics. Dead, probably, said the most practical part of her, but sometimes—well, sometimes she hoped. Sometimes (right now, not that she’d admit it), she felt bad for stealing from his kingdom…and his crown.

Most times, she knew just how stupid hope was, and that sympathy was even worse. Especially for a wanted criminal.

Especially for the legendary Mechanic.

She swung her legs over the sill and closed the shutters behind her with a sigh, closing the satchel with a smirk. “Alone at last,” she crooned—

Then something slammed into the back of her head, and Mech’s world went dark.

* * *

Ed hadn’t been having the best birthday—or day-before-his-birthday. Sure, things started _off_ well. He’d managed to hide his Cress from his father, the Barn Owl finally flying off before he hauled him back up into the tower, got all his chores done quickly and busied himself with whatever pastimes were approved. Painting, fortunately, was still top of the list, and though he was running out of space, he’d moved the mantle-piece over the fireplace enough that he could paint the empty wall.

Inky skies, shining, floating lights, and a boy watching them with glowing golden hair. His birthday present, one he’d been looking forward to since he was old enough to have _memories,_ let alone dreams. Or—well, he’d hoped it’d be his birthday present. He was turning eighteen, which was the age of adulthood for almost every nation according to the stories he’d found in the books Father gave him. Surely he was mature enough for a short picnic in the forest, where he could see the floating lights better, right?

 _Not right._ Father didn’t like that he’d asked at all, even though it was his _birthday_ and Ed felt really small and cramped _(weakstarvedscaredneedlightlightlight)_ within the walls of his tower. He’d humored it at first, after Ed used his hair to soothe him after the wilds of the outside (he’d messed up the song by going too fast, though, and maybe that was why Father got mad), but then—well, then he’d reminded Ed about his lost leg, about the raiders who’d loved nothing more than to chop off his hair and sell him.

Reminded him that he was young, and immature, and useless. That he had a history of rambling and getting overexcited and forgetting about his surroundings to the point that he got hurt, or that people around him got hurt protecting him. That he was safer in here, and too weak to handle himself out there.

And then he’d left to get ingredients for dinner—and Ed hadn’t been able to do anything but sit on the mantle and stare at the painting he’d hoped would come true. The reality that would be nothing but a dream.

Cress had flown back in from her little nest after Father left, crooning and comforting him with gentle, fluffy wings, preening gently at his scalp. He’d managed a smile as he lowered himself to the ground carefully, setting his foot down first before putting his crutch down—and freezing as the window shutters swung open again and _someone walked in._ Someone who wasn’t Father. Someone who was tall, with a lithe build and narrow shoulders and thick blonde hair in a high ponytail, with cutting blue eyes and full lips and who was a _girl_ and who _definitely wasn’t Father—_

Before he could think twice, he cracked his crutch over her head and scooted away with a shriek as the— _person._ The real, live person—toppled over soundlessly. He leveled the crutch at her with trembling hands as Cress hooted in alarm, flapping her wings wildly. _Oh god. Oh my god. It’s a person, it’s a human, it’s gonna cut off my hair it has razor sharp teeth and probably claws and—and it’s a girl, I’ve never seen a girl before but that’s what they look like in illustrations, right?_ “Oh, gods—oh gods oh gods oh gods, Father’s going to _kill_ me, Cress!”

The owl landed on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze with her talons, careful as always not to pierce the skin. He leaned against the wall and tried to breath, before hopping closer, unwilling to put down the crutch—and toppled over with a squeal as his hair snagged painfully on something. He sat up quickly, back stinging and eyes watering as he tugged it off of the whorl in the rafters it was knotted around— _ow, ow, OW—_ and hauled himself upright, scooting over to the kitchen. He snatched the first heavy, vaguely weapon-ish item he could find as he wedged his crutch back under his arm, pointing the object (a frying pan) at the girl as he inched closer.

“What am I supposed to do?” he whispered, prodding at her. She didn’t move, evidently well and truly unconscious, and some of that terror faded. He glanced at Cress, who rotated her head and blinked big black eyes at him, before hooting again and opening her beak in a snarling face.

Right. Other people had razor-sharp teeth that they used to poison people and tear out their throats. He should probably figure out something to do with those, first.

Hesitantly, he reached out with the handle of the pan, pulling her lip up—and frowned. Her teeth were flat, normal. _Like…mine?_

He glanced around before frowning and grabbing the bag the girl had dropped when he hit her, Cress flapping up to the top of the mirror his father loved so much and perching on it. Ed perched on a stool, furrowing his brow before hopping awkwardly over to the mirror and withdrawing the contents. Something pretty, and metal, with what looked like diamonds and jewels and obsidian set in it. He ran a finger admiringly over the rose-gold, before slipping a hand through it and holding it out. It was too big, but, well, he had no idea what it _was_. “Like this, maybe?”

Cress flipped her head upside down, before squinting at him. He huffed (tough crowd, huh?), before holding it up to one eye and peering through one of the clear gemstones. If anything, it just made the world look weirder, and he sighed before holding it out again. _Alright, well…maybe it’s a hat?_ Hesitantly, he lifted it up and set it on his head, and—

Oh. _Oh._ It was a hat, then. A very pretty, fancy hat. “Huh,” he said after a moment, tipping it into his hands before looking up at Cress and stuffing the satchel quickly into a pot by the staircase—and _grinning._ “See? Look at that!” He gestured at the slumped body of the girl, even as he eyed the blue-painted wardrobe carefully. “I can totally take care of myself! As soon as I show Father _this,_ he’ll have to take me to see the floating lights, right?”

Cress made a worried, warbling sound, but Ed ignored it, hope bursting bright in his chest as he began the task of stuffing the first person who’d ever found his tower into the closet.

_I’m going to see those lights after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed it!!!! leave a comment and/or a kudos if you wanna see more, and i'll see you next time! also, if you want to support me and my writing more, check out [this post](https://aliiasinvestigations.tumblr.com/post/190402552096/i-have-a-patreon) on how. love you all, and stay frosty <3

**Author's Note:**

> will i write more of this? eventually. will it be soon? uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
> 
> i hope you guys enjoyed it, though! leave a comment and/or a kudos if you did, and i'll see you all next time. lots of love <3


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